


Along Came A Spider

by MotherOfSnakes



Category: Alice Cooper (Musician) - Fandom
Genre: Attempted Murder, Bondage, Cunnilingus, F/M, Handcuffs, Insanity, Oral Sex, Psychopath, Seduction, Serial Killer, Vaginal Sex, criminal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 05:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11246955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherOfSnakes/pseuds/MotherOfSnakes
Summary: Kate meets a handsome man in a bar, and after a few drinks agrees to spend the night with him. But when there's a serial killer in town, you probably shouldn't go home with strangers ...Based on the concept of Alice Cooper's Along Came A Spider album, if you hadn't guessed!





	Along Came A Spider

**Author's Note:**

> Just for fun, fellow Alice fans: how many Alice song titles can you spot scattered through the story?

 I wanted a drink. It had been a long, hard day at the office and I really needed to unwind – there was a convenient bar on my way home that would do the job. I looked around at my three colleagues who, like myself, were getting ready to leave for the day. "Anybody up for a drink?" I asked.

 "Not me," said John, my supervisor. "I've been late home the last three nights – if I'm not on time tonight my wife'll kill me."

 "Me either," Dave said, stifling a yawn. "I'm exhausted."

 "Just us girls, then?" I said, turning to Julie, my female workmate.

 "I can't," she responded. "I've got yoga tonight."

 "That's right," I said, "I forgot. Oh well, guess I'll be drinking alone tonight."

 Everybody stopped what they were doing and looked hard at me. After a moment's silence, Julie said: "You can't go alone, Kate."

 "Why not?"

 "You know why not," said John sternly. "The Spider."

 "Oh, please, not that again," I groaned. 'The Spider' was the name the media had given to a local serial killer. He had murdered seven young women over the last three months, each time amputating one leg from his victim and wrapping the body in silk. The police were at a dead end with their investigation of the case, having no suspects, and lately you couldn't turn on the T.V. or radio, or pick up a newspaper or magazine, without hearing about when and where the Spider might strike next. I was thoroughly sick of the unending coverage. What was worse, women were being advised not to go out alone after dark, and as an independent person who didn't like being told what I could and couldn't do, I found this particularly irksome.

 "Look, I know you think the media are blowing this thing out of all proportion," said John, "but the fact is there is a serial killer on the loose. A serial killer who targets young women."

 "Oh, come on," I said, "what are the chances of him targeting me? He's got a whole city full of women to choose from."

 "Still, there's no point in taking unnecessary risks, is there?" said Dave reasonably. "Would you like me to walk you home?"

 "No, I would not!" I snapped, exasperated. "It's not even dark yet! I can take care of myself, you know."

 "Of course you can," said Dave in what was obviously supposed to be a conciliatory tone, though it only sounded patronizing to my ears. "Just promise me you won't go out drinking by yourself."

 "I'll do what I like, thank you so very much," I retorted, and marched out of the office. Honestly, you'd think I was a five-year-old the way they carried on. They'd be telling me not to talk to strangers next.

***

 The sun was just beginning to set when I reached the bar. I realized this meant it would be dark when I left, but I wasn't concerned. I went inside and seated myself at the bar, ordering a beer. I drank in silence for a while, enjoying being by myself and getting some degree of childish satisfaction out of defying my colleagues' advice. My irritation with them gradually drained away as I drank, and I started to feel more relaxed.

 I had almost finished my beer when someone walked up behind me and a smooth, masculine voice said: "Excuse me. May I buy you a drink?"

 I turned and looked up into the bluest pair of eyes I'd ever seen. They belonged to a tall, ruggedly handsome man with long black hair, who was smiling at me in the most charming manner. I had been going to refuse the offer, but the sight of him took my breath away – he was an incredibly striking man, and I'd never felt such a strong and instantaneous attraction to someone before. Realizing I was staring, I tore my gaze away and mumbled: "Uh … thanks."

 The man ordered two beers, then sat down next to me and regarded me with those piercing eyes of his. "Here all by yourself?" he asked.

 "Yes," I answered. "I just popped in on my way home from work. Tough day, you know."

 "Sure. I've had those."

 "Who hasn't … uh, sorry, what was your name?"

 He opened his mouth to reply, hesitated briefly, then said: "Steven."

 "Steven. I'm Kate." I held out my hand, but instead of shaking it Steven took it in his and lightly kissed the back. A jolt like an electric shock went through me from the point where his lips touched my skin. What was wrong with me? I never reacted like this to men, not right away.

 "Delighted to meet you," he purred, looking up at me through his lashes.

 "Likewise," I managed. I could feel myself beginning to blush. Part of me wanted to pull my hand out of his in embarrassment, but a greater part was enjoying his touch too much do so. Steven smiled as though he knew exactly what I was thinking, and released my hand of his own accord.

 We made small talk while we drank, and I found myself relishing his company. When I finished my drink and he offered me another, I was glad to accept just to spend more time with him. We talked on, and two drinks became three, and then four. After that, though, I decided it was time to stop. It was getting late, and I ought to be getting home.

 "Another drink?" Steven asked as I swallowed the last of my fifth beer of the evening.

 "Thanks, but I really should make a move," I said. It felt like I was trying to convince myself as much as him.

 "Are you sure?" he said, sounding disappointed, and it was an effort of will to say: "Yes, I have to go."

 "Okay," said Steven. "In that case, may I walk you home?"

 Strangely, I took much less offence at his offer than I had at Dave's earlier. Even so, I knew it wasn't the best idea in the world to accept. I'd only just met Steven – I didn't really know him from Adam … but even as I told myself this, I heard myself saying: "I'd like that, thanks."

 Steven gave me another of his dazzling smiles, and we left the bar together. Outside, it was now completely dark, the streetlights casting pools of sulphurous light every few feet along the road. "You know," said Steven casually as we began to walk, "the night doesn't have to end here."

 "What … what do you mean?" I asked, thinking – hoping? – I already knew.

 "My place is just around the corner," he said, leaving the invitation hanging.

 "Oh … well … I don't know …" I stammered.

 Suddenly, Steven wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him, pressing his lips firmly against mine. I resisted briefly, more for appearances' sake than because I actually wanted to, then gave in to him and kissed him back. His tongue slipped into my mouth and a rush of heat swept through my body. Then he pulled away.

 "Now do you know?" he whispered.

 I took a moment to catch my breath, then nodded. "Okay," I said. "Your place."

 Steven smiled broadly, fully aware it seemed of my inability to resist him. He knew I wanted him – he'd known it before I had, and known what to do to convince me. There was something magnetic about him – something that drew me, that almost hypnotized me. It was a little frightening in its intensity, but I didn't care. All I cared about right now was getting more of him.

 Steven steered me away from the direction of my home, leading me down a few more streets until we came to a large, expensive-looking house that he announced was his. I was impressed – I could never have afforded anything so grand. We went inside. Steven didn't offer to give me the tour, and I didn't ask – the only room I was interested in seeing was the bedroom, and he seemed to feel the same way, almost pulling me down a corridor towards the rear of the house. He shoved a door open with his shoulder and showed me into a room – I got only a quick impression of size and subtle colours before my eyes settled on the bed. It was the focal point of the room, a huge four-poster covered in white silk sheets that glowed in the moonlight streaming through the window.

 Steven took me in his arms again, his mouth seeking mine. As I kissed him, I felt something cold and metallic snap around my right wrist, and pulled away in surprise. One half of a pair of handcuffs was dangling from my wrist – where had Steven suddenly produced them from?

 "Listen, I'm … I'm not into kinky stuff," I said awkwardly.

 "Are you sure?" he said huskily, his penetrating gaze fixed on my face. His eyes were such a deep blue … deep enough to drown me.

 "Uh … yes?" I was aware even as I said it that I sounded far from sure. Steven leaned in and kissed me again, his hands roving over my body as he did so. My mind was awash with desire as he released me and said: "Are you _really_ sure? You'll like it, I promise."

 "Well …" I trailed off. I didn't usually do this sort of thing, but then I didn't usually go home with men I'd just met in a bar either. It might be fun to try it … "Okay," I said. "I'm game."

 "Good," said Steven. He guided me to the bed and beckoned for me to lay down on my back. When I did so, he took the loose handcuff and stretched my arm above my head, looping the chain of the cuffs through the metal struts of the headboard. He lifted my other arm and snapped the second cuff shut around my left wrist, then stood back and undressed, leaving his sinewy body exposed and pale in the moonlight. I had an urge to touch him, to run my fingers over his smooth skin, but the handcuffs restrained me, fastening me securely to the bed. I started to wonder if this had been such a good idea, but at the same time experienced something curiously erotic in feeling so powerless.

 "Now, let's get you out of those clothes," he said, bending over me. Slowly, so slowly, he unbuttoned my blouse. I wasn't wearing a bra, so when he pushed it open my breasts were revealed, rising and falling with my fast, excited breathing. Steven cupped them in his hands, his finger-tips toying with my erect nipples. Then his hands moved down to my trousers, unbuttoning them in turn. He hooked his fingers over the top of the waistband, inside my panties, and pulled both down in one swift movement, yanking them and my high heels off as he reached my feet. He stood looking down at me for a moment, licking his lips in what appeared to be anticipation as he eyed my naked, helpless form, then climbed onto the bed next to me and kissed me passionately. His fingers grazed my thigh and I automatically spread my legs – his hand slipped between them, stroking me gently. I moaned, wanting him desperately now.

 Steven broke the kiss and shifted further down the bed, settling himself between my open legs. "I'm hungry," he growled, and I knew he didn't mean for food. His tongue flicked out into my hot, moist slit, making me gasp. He explored me intimately, exquisitely, until I was crying out with pleasure. I was almost ready to beg him to take me when he finally came up for air. His eyes blazed with lust as he covered my body with his, and I squirmed beneath him, pushing my hips towards him, resenting the handcuffs holding me in place but at the same time enjoying being restrained and at his mercy.

 He slid inside me with a single, deep thrust and began moving back and forth, in and out, over and over again. Waves of bliss washed over me, building rapidly towards a crescendo. I wrapped my legs around his hips, arching myself up towards him, trying to pull every inch of him inside me and keep him there. He came with a wordless, guttural sound of satisfaction, and feeling his hot seed spurting into me tipped me over the edge. I screamed out my ecstasy as climax shuddered through me, my muscles locking, my hands tugging with frantic futility at the handcuffs …

 It was over. My taut muscles loosened and I sagged back against the bed, breathing hard. Above me Steven also relaxed, nestling his face into my neck with a sigh. He seemed content to stay there for the rest of the night, and it was with his comforting weight on top of me that I succumbed to sleep.

***

 I awoke some time later feeling chilly and uncovered. Opening my eyes, I saw that Steven had risen from me and was now sitting at the end of the bed, facing away from me. It sounded like he was muttering something under his breath. I couldn't quite hear what it was, and tried to shuffle nearer, but the handcuffs, still securing me to the headboard, prevented much movement. I was able to shift close enough to hear what he was saying, though – it was: "You trap, you kill, you eat. You trap, you kill, you eat. You trap, you kill, you eat." Again and again, he kept repeating this odd phrase.

 "Steven?" I said. He jumped and spun round, his eyes wide and wild. I felt a tingle of fear snake its way up my spine at the look of crazed anguish on his face. "What's wrong?" I asked.

 "You trap, you kill, you eat," said Steven. "That's what a good spider does. You trap, you kill, you eat. But I can't. Not this time. Not to you."

 "What … what are you talking about?" I said, starting to feel really frightened now. He sounded insane!

 "You should be wrapped in silk," said Steven. "But I can't do it! And if I don't … if I don't … killed by love! Killed by love!"

 I pulled myself into a sitting position, fighting to drag my hands from the cuffs that bound me. He was mad. He was absolutely mad, and God alone knew what he was going to do next.

 "Don't you see, Kate? Don't you see?" said Steven, hiding his head in his hands in distress. "I am the Spider!"

 Terror – cold, stark, unmitigated terror – flooded through me at these words. The Spider! _This_ was the notorious serial killer the police had been unable to catch! The charming, good-looking, seductive Steven was the deranged murderer who mutilated his victims and wrapped them in silk! And here I was – caught in his web.

 "Please, Steven," I said, struggling to keep my voice from shaking, "please let me go."

 The Spider stared at me, his gaze at once psychotic and tormented. "I have to complete the spider," he said. "Eight legs. I need eight legs. I only have seven. Seven women, seven legs. I must have eight. If I don't complete the spider, it's all over for me. But you … you've done something to me. I can't take a leg from you. I can't wrap you in silk. I think … I think I love you, and that will be the death of me. I've been killed by love."

 I swallowed hard, trying to remain calm when all I really wanted to do was scream as long and as loudly as I could. Perhaps I could reason with him using his own twisted logic?

 "Steven," I said as steadily as I could, "if you love me, you have to let me go. You must take these handcuffs off me, and let me leave here unharmed. I'm not meant to be your eighth victim. I'm meant to be the one that got away."

 "The one that got away?" the Spider repeated slowly. "Yes … the one that got away. The black widow. The spider that kills her mate after loving him. Yes! This is my punishment for the lives I have taken. This will redeem me in the eyes of God. This is my salvation."

 "That's right," I said, seizing on the word, "salvation. But only if you let me go, Steven. If you let me go, God will forgive you for what you've done."

 Nodding, his expression dazed now, his eyes glazed, the Spider got up and retrieved the key to the handcuffs from the bedside table. He freed me, then slumped down on the bed, staring into space. I grabbed my clothes from the floor and ran from the house as fast as I could.

***

 Later, barricaded inside my own home, doors and windows all locked, I picked up the 'phone with hands that still shook. It was time to call the police and tell them where they could find the Spider. My finger hovered over the 9, ready to dial, ready to condemn the psychopath I had escaped from. Then I lowered the receiver back into its cradle, thinking of how I had promised him salvation. If I turned him in, he would rot in a cell for the rest of his life. But then, he had murdered seven women. He deserved to rot in a cell.

 Didn't he?

**Author's Note:**

> How many songs did you spot? They were:
> 
> I'm Hungry  
> Wrapped In Silk  
> Killed By Love  
> I Am The Spider  
> The One That Got Away  
> The Black Widow  
> Salvation


End file.
